


truth spoke in whispers (will tear you apart)

by guineapiggie



Series: In Another Life [8]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Single Parent, F/M, Inspired by Music, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 14:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11014866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineapiggie/pseuds/guineapiggie
Summary: It’s poetic justice, probably, that the car had to break down right here. It’s an hour’s drive to where he lived last time she heard of him. Someone less cynical – like Bodhi, for instance – might call this divine intervention. Fate stepping in to save a poor innocent girl from her mother’s cowardice.Jyn will settle for karma.“Fuck,” she whispers, very softly, and stares into the sunset.Baby's in the backseat, still fast asleepdreaming of better daysI don't want to call you but you're all I have to turn to





	truth spoke in whispers (will tear you apart)

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics in the description and title taken from "Humble Me" by Norah Jones (also the whole plot, who are we kidding)

 

_Baby Teresa, she's got your eyes  
I see you all the time_

_When she asks about her daddy  
I never know what to say_

* * *

 

 

The sky is beautiful, all pale and streaked with oranges and pinks where it meets the horizon. Jyn leans against the dusty car, still warm from the setting sun, and takes another ten slow, deep breaths.

It changes nothing. This car won’t drive another mile, and it’s getting dark.

She should have taken Bodhi – he would tell her as much, definitely, if he could hear her – better still, she shouldn’t have come here in the first place.

It’s the guilt, she thinks with another heavy sigh, the guilt is slowly but surely driving her insane. Another year, or maybe two, and then it won’t just be old ladies cooing down at Teresa and asking her why she always comes alone. Soon, she’ll speak well enough to ask for herself. And what will she say then? 

So, admittedly, maybe taking Teresa here doesn’t make up for anything, but it felt like a good idea at the time. It felt like a start.

It’s poetic justice, probably, that the car had to break down right here. It’s an hour’s drive to where he lived last time she heard of him. Someone less cynical – like Bodhi, for instance – might call this divine intervention. Fate stepping in to save a poor innocent girl from her mother’s cowardice.

Jyn will settle for karma.

“Fuck,” she whispers, very softly, and stares into the sunset.

It’s been nearly four years, and they were long and tiring and still… suddenly she finds herself wishing it would feel like four years, but she thinks some part of her will always be stuck in the days right after.

For some small part of her, it will always feel like it happened yesterday, and that small part of her will always look at her daughter and see him, and she hates him just a little for that.

Teresa is still sleeping, curled up in the backseat around that stuffed animal Bodhi gave her for Christmas and that he swears is a dog even though it’s clearly a cat.

Oh, the things Bodhi would have to say if he could see her now... mostly about how she was bloody insane and irresponsible, a point she can't rightly argue.

Cassian would have lost it, if this had happened when they were still together, if he’d heard she stood at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere in Mexico, all alone with no way to get away, she thinks idly and a grim little smile tugs at her lips. For the most part, he’d trusted her to have her own back – as well he should, she’d always been a better fighter than he was, cop or not – but this? He'd have thrown a fit.

“ _Fuck_.”

There’s reception, which is somewhat ironic. Maybe it _is_ fate.

She shivers and stares into the darkening pink at the horizon, then very slowly scrolls through her contacts. A miracle that she still has his number, Bodhi would say in that reproachful way he has.

He’s wrong about that.

It’s the guilt. It’s the bloody guilt that keeps her awake at night and makes her sad when she looks at her own daughter.

Maybe he won’t even pick up.

Maybe he changed his number, or maybe he’s moved someplace else.

She doesn’t know what she’d do then, but in a way, she hopes. In a way, she doesn’t.

But he picks up after the third ring, and he answers the phone in English.

“Hello?”

“Cassian,” she says bleakly, stupidly, and stares at the darkening sky. “It’s me. Jyn.”

There’s a small pause. “Of course,” he says then, very softly. “How are you?”

“I need you… your help,” she continues after a moment of silence, thrown off the rails by the sound of that all-too familiar voice.

“Help?” he echoes, confused. She can practically hear the frown pulling at those dark eyes of his, the ones she still sees, day after day. “I’m still in Mexico, I don’t know if I –“

“I wouldn’t have called you,” she cuts him off hastily. “If I had anyone else, but – look, the car broke down and it’s getting dark and… if it was just me I wouldn’t call for help but I…”

“Where are you?” he asks softly, calm as ever. Collected. Gentle.

“I’m not asking you to come, just… I don’t know, maybe you know someone who can help me, or… someone you trust who can be here when I call the tow company or something.”

“What the hell are you doing in Mexico, Jyn?”

“Just tell me if you can help, Cassian,” she says quietly and he sighs.

“Send me your location,” he answers flatly. “Don’t hang up.”

She does as she’s told, with a horrible tightness in her insides. There's so much pain in his voice already.

"Seriously. What are you doing here?” he asks after a moment and she can hear the door of his car fall shut in the background.

“I wasn’t coming to see you,” she says rather defensively. “We were just passing.”

He sighs. “Who is _we_? Can’t they help you with the car?”

She stares through the dirty window at her daughter’s still sleeping form, dark hair pooling over the worn seat, and scoffs.

“No, she can’t. She’s still half a fucking baby. Which is why I don’t want to be standing around here on a silver plate.”

There’s a pause after this, a long pause.

What do you say, after all this time? How much of it has gone away?

Too much, surely.

Not enough, definitely.

The silence is killing her, but just as her fingers twitch back up to the phone, he says, in that tired sharp cop’s voice: “Don’t hang up, Jyn.”

“Cassian –“

“Congratulations,” he says, and she winces. _And to you._

“Is that what you say?”

“I guess people say that,” he replies flatly and she almost laughs.

“Yeah. I guess. Thank you.”

He sighs again. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here, Jyn.”

“Yeah. Neither do I,” she mutters.

“You’ll be okay, Jyn,” he says softly. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t hang up.”

In the car, Teresa blinks her eyes open and crawls over the seat towards the door. Jyn opens the door and runs a hand through her hair, pushing the phone into her sweater to muffle her words.

“Hiya, darling,” she mutters and pulls her close. “Come look at the pretty sunset.”

Teresa climbs out of the car, her small fingers wrapping around Jyn’s hand while the free hand rubs the sleep from the corners of her dark eyes.

“Jyn? Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sure. The kid woke up, that’s all.”

He is quiet for a moment. “What’s her name?”

“Teresa,” she replies slowly, and wonders if he knows what he’s asking. But how can he?

“That’s pretty. Who chose it?”

“Bodhi. Bodhi chose,” she murmurs, then Teresa tugs at her sleeve.

“Mummy. Are we going?”

She smiles down at her. “Not yet, dear. We’re waiting for someone now.”

The girl looks up with big brown eyes. “Why?”

She sighs. “Because Mummy made a mistake, Reese.” She raises the phone back to her ear. “So what have you been up to?”

“Nothing much,” he answers, vague as ever, and Jyn smiles.

“I see you’re driving again.”

“For about a year, yes,” he replies in an even tone, in a way that means he won’t say anymore. She used to think she was helping him, but now she wonders if she’d been driving him to drinking.

“Good for you.”

“And you?”

“Nothing much,” she replies with a small smirk, and he sighs.

“I’ll be there in five.”

She closes her eyes and tugs the child closer. It should be raining, she thinks. That would be far more fitting.

But when has it ever rained when she thought it convenient?

She should have called him, four years ago. She knows that. But he’d just left, had been gone maybe a week when she found out. She would have seemed desperate, calling after him, and she was still so hurt, so _angry_. And then after she gave birth, it was already too late. It was already far too late then, and she looked into that tiny human’s eyes and couldn’t do it. Couldn’t risk calling. What if he’d told her he couldn’t come back? What if she would wind up being the _reason_ Teresa had no father? What if she made a call and then it would all be her fault, not just because she never called but because she wasn’t enough?

She couldn’t promise a family and then not deliver, could she? That would have been cruel.

“Are you still there?”

“Yes,” she replies softly and runs her fingers through her daughter’s hair. "I'm still here."

What is there to say? What words are there, really, for what she has done, to him, to her child?

It’s not going to cut it, but it’s all she has. _Please. Please. Please. Forgive me._

 

* * *

_What do you say_  
_when it's all gone away?_  
_Baby, I didn't mean to hurt you?_

 _Truth spoke in whispers will tear you apart,_  
_no matter how hard you resist it_

_It never rains when you want it to  
You humble me, Lord_

* * *

 

 

He was always such a good liar, but she sees it in his face the moment he takes one good look at the sleepy little girl in her arms. It’s so obvious, too, of course it is - she looks like him. She looks so much like him. It doesn’t take a genius, and for just a tiny moment, Jyn can almost see how he breaks.

But he was always such a good liar.

“Hello there,” he says softly, and his voice is just a little off. “Teresa, right?”

She looks at him with her big, big eyes, and Jyn wonders if she realises that his eyes are the same.

He smiles, and it looks all wrong but he tries, and Jyn isn’t sure if she can stand this for another second.

“Don’t be scared. I’m a friend of your mother,” and he says that without blinking, without flinching, and Jyn wonders how many times he must have lied to her like that and she never even knew.

“The shops are closed now,” he tells her. “A friend of mine will see what he can do about the car, but he won’t be here for another two hours. There’s a hotel, but…”

She pulls Teresa closer and climbs into the passenger seat. “But?”

“You shouldn’t go there. Not now, not alone,” he says softly. “You can stay with me, drive on tomorrow.” He glances down at the sleeping girl in her arms, then looks away and says, very quietly:

“How could you, Jyn?”

She has no answer to that, not really. “You _left_. Let’s be real, if I’d called you and told you, you would’ve just thought I’d done it on purpose, because I knew you were leaving. You wouldn’t have come. And she’d grow up without a father and I’d know every second of my life that it’s because I wasn’t enough.”

She doesn’t look at him, but she can hear his voice shake when he repeats: “I wouldn’t have come? You knew that? Without even trying?”

She shrugs and pulls the girl closer. “You left,” she replies emptily. “You wouldn’t have left if you’d cared.”

“You had no right,” he says sharply.

“No right?” she repeats, and in a way she agrees, but - “No _right_? No right not to want a father for my daughter who _leaves_ her? Like I’ve been left? Over and over? No right to that, huh?”

He takes a deep breath, then another. “So I guess it’s my fault, then.”

She crawls even deeper into the seat and stares out of the window into the dark. “I didn’t say that.”

He sighs, glances over at her again. “No, it is. At least a little. I should have told you.”

“Told me?”

Another sigh. “I did something, very long ago, when I was seventeen. The file got sealed, but they found out, and they said they’d deport me if I didn’t go back myself. I’m not sure that’s strictly legal. I didn’t want you to know.”

“You know everything I did,” she replies quietly after a moment of stunned silence.

He scoffs. “Believe me, it doesn’t compare,” he says very softly, then adds: “I knew you would have come with me. And someday, you would’ve hated me for making you leave. So I didn’t say anything.”

She leans her head against the seat and closes her eyes.

“We’re both idiots, you know,” she mutters and buries her fingers in Teresa’s hair. “We both assume too much.”

He laughs. “We talk too little.”

“Like I said. Idiots.” She stares into the darkness. “I’m not asking you to forgive me, Cassian,” she says softly, even though every word cuts her tongue.

“That’s good. I don’t think I could,” he answers, and it sounds lost.

 

* * *

_You humble me, Lord_  
_I'm on my knees,_  
_empty_  
_You humble me, Lord_

* * *

 

 

There is a little petty arguing over where to sleep, a stupid dance, really, until Jyn and Teresa take the bed and Cassian sleeps in the living room. It only kills her a little, how familiar and bizarre and lonely it feels, the smell of the freshly washed sheets, the worn dusty floorboards creaking, and the familiar sound of her daughter’s breathing all mixing together. She doesn’t sleep for most of the night.

 

* * *

_You humble me, Lord_  
_So please, please, please_  
_Forgive me  
You humble me, Lord_

* * *

 

 

She doesn’t know what wakes her, but he’s leaning in the doorway when she opens her eyes, a strange little smile on his lips.

“Where’s Reese?” she asks blearily, her hand travelling over the mattress.

“In the kitchen, with a glass of milk. Waiting for you.” He pushes himself off the frame and turns to leave. “There’s coffee, too. And Joaquin fixed your car.”

He walks away, and Jyn falls back into the pillow and stares at the ceiling. 

She could be braver this time.

Maybe.

Teresa sits on a chair with three pillows stacked on the seat, still not even close to reaching the table, happily nibbling a piece of toast. He sits opposite her and watches her over his coffee with a strange look on his face that’s half fascination and half grief. There’s a plate set for her and a steaming cup of coffee, and she thinks, what a fucking sharade.

“That looks tasty, love,” she says and Teresa beams up and nods. At least one of them is enjoying themselves.

She sits down with a sigh and mutters a thanks for the coffee, then, after a few listless bites:

“You said the car is fixed?”

“Yes. Do you need anything else, for the road?”

She takes a few deep breaths. _Be brave. Just this once, you be brave._

“What do we owe your friend?”

Predictably, he shrugs. “It’s fine. There’s a gas station down the road, you should probably stop there on your way out.”

She bites her lip and nods.

_Just this once._

“We haven’t made reservations,” she begins slowly, stupidly. “Nowhere to go in particular. I just wanted her to have this.”

“This?” he repeats, confused, and she sighs.

“Some sort of memory, I guess. It’s her culture, too, and I’d hate for her to have nothing but my rubbish Spanish, so… I thought I’d take her to see the country. I always wanted to. I swear I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re teaching her Spanish?” he asks weakly, staring at her in shock.

“I try,” she replies softly.

There’s a strange look flickering over his face for a moment, but then all he says is: “Joaquin said you got lucky, could’ve ended much worse. He said there’s no way you did it on purpose, not that I asked.”

She smiles a little and takes a sip of her coffee. “I don’t want to impose.”

“You keep saying that.”

She nods, slowly. “We have two and half weeks before we fly back.” _Be brave, just this one time, Jyn, just this once._  “I know I shouldn’t have… I know it doesn’t make up for anything, but… If you want to be around her for a while, then…” She takes a shuddering breath and finishes lamely: “Well, then we have two and half weeks.”

His eyes flicker from her to the girl and back, and he’s silent for a moment.

“You’re not imposing, Jyn,” he answers then. “And you shouldn’t even have to ask.”

She shrugs. “Well, I am asking.”

He gets up and comes back with more bread and a glass of honey, puts it down on the table without hurry, winks at Teresa who beams back, then sits down, empties his coffee.

“Of course I do. Of course, Jyn." His eyes find hers, angry, sad, longing, nervous, calm all at the same time. He's always been so bloody confusing. "Please. Stay.”

 

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Can’t Hide (Your Lyin’ Eyes)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057235) by [NewLeeland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewLeeland/pseuds/NewLeeland)




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